


Suite Bergamasque: III. Claire De Lune

by ghee (sabakunoghee)



Category: Twosetviolin
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:02:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27144937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabakunoghee/pseuds/ghee
Summary: Brett and Eddy shared a bed for the first time after admitting that they loved each other.
Relationships: Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 1
Kudos: 37





	Suite Bergamasque: III. Claire De Lune

His eyelashes fluttered as Brett Yang tried to open his eyes; the sky was still dark, a glimmer of city lights dimmed in his blurred vision, softly penetrates from the window curtain. He had to adjust himself and was lost in thought for a second, only to recall that he was far away from home. Nine, almost ten, hours of flight to Singapore, and the fact that he was asleep during the journey didn’t help at all. Brett recollected his short-term memory right after they reached the hotel—Eddy did all the talking with the receptionist, patted him all the way to their room, and let Brett take his shower first. The rest was all blank. Suddenly, he was there; curling in his pajamas, wrapped by not only a thick blanket but also by Eddy’s arms.

Brett—didn’t mind it, though. He was just still confused by these sudden, drastic changes right after one of them confessed. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t the younger guy who did it first. Amazing, if you asked him.

Carefully, _almost cautiously_ , Brett rolled, his position now was facing Eddy.

In silence, in darkness, he studied his partner’s sleeping face—the contour of his nose, the tip of his lips, the rises and falls of his breathing chest. Eddy was a natural nocturnal. Brett knew he was barely asleep at least an hour ago, judging from the ticking clock which told him it was only four in the morning. Unlike Eddy, Brett was always a morning person. It was normal for him to wake this early, preparing his coffee before doing anything else, having a nice bath. But since _that day_ , Brett had this new habit he quietly enjoyed: to watch Eddy sleep, wondering what he was seeing in his dream. Eddy’s ability in remembering what he saw and retold it when they were having breakfast was Brett’s favorite way to start the day.

Until then, Brett wanted to take his time, as much as possible, to absorb Eddy’s presence. And as if Eddy grasped the idea, his embrace on his partner’s waist was getting tighter. He mumbled some inaudible words which didn’t make any sense, sent Brett to giggle, but he didn’t try to escape, nonetheless.

(—not anymore.)

(—not physically, not mentally, _no._ )

* * *

Eddy Chen thought that he was the most mysterious person on earth, but apparently, he wasn’t; not in front of his teammate for the last fourteen, almost fifteen years. Brett Yang read him as easily as an open book. When the feeling he had for him slowly evolved from ‘best friend’ into something else, Brett _knew_. When he looked at him with not only compassion but also passion and lust, Brett _knew_. When he could no longer contain the appropriate amount of his touch and stare in front of the camera, Brett _knew_. Eddy, however, never really spoke about it. He even dodged the questions when Brett tried to confirm—it ended up the elder one spilled the truth, about how he didn’t mind, how he enjoyed Eddy’s language of confirmation.

At first, Eddy couldn’t trust his hearing. It was his first time not to be able to believe not only his perfect pitch but his ear altogether. So, he relied on his eyes, caught Brett’s serene expression as he talked.

And suddenly, he was allowed to hug, to express his yearning for a decade.

Thus, he let Brett laid his head on his shoulder for seven hours, he finished the administration stuff once they reached their hotel, he told Brett to wash and went to sleep first while he was practicing for a bit. They shared beds often. Not only when in tours, but also in Eddy’s house; when Brett was too tired to drive himself home, he collapsed on Eddy’s bedroom which obviously only had one mattress. Just like any normal person, Eddy wouldn’t bother to sleep on the couch—he went straight to the empty side of the bed, slept with their back facing each other. That was just two normal friends did, right? But tonight, things went—too intimate, he admitted, even for him who needed a physical touch more than anything.

He couldn’t help himself when he saw Brett curled like a baby, softly snoring with lips slightly parted. Eddy finished his repertoire-training an hour earlier to join his lover on the bed, carefully snuggled him, placed his head on his arm, while the other free one trapped Brett’s waist to bring him closer to his thumping chest.

(—Eddy slept like a miracle, that night.)

(—and he seriously would never trade this moment with anything else.)

**Author's Note:**

> Title (c) Claude Debussy  
> Thank you for reading my nonsense.


End file.
